Notes

I think I enjoy doing the laundry too much. There's something to be
said about choosing one's favorite clothes out of the hamper,
attracted to color or texture or purpose, anticipating the pleasure of
wearing things again. As I swish each piece through the sudsy water, I
get a chance to reflect on the stories my clothes have, from what
happened the last time I wore them to the first time I saw them. The
rhythmic motions are calming as I stretch and relax. It pleases me to
hang the clothes neatly and know that they will drip-dry straight,
with hardly any need for ironing... A dwindling pile of laundry makes
me feel as if I'm making real progress.

And one wonders why I keep laundry as one of my personal pleasures,
forgoing a night out in order to meditate in this dance of water!

Machine laundry just isn't the same. Oh, I love taking
freshly-laundered linen out of the dryer and folding them while
they're still warm, but my sheets and towels don't have the stories
that my clothes do. I wouldn't trust most of my clothes to the
machine, either. I'm afraid of running dyes and the ruin of delicate
touches. I've lost a few of my favorite pieces to these things despite
my precautions! Besides, hand-washing my favorite things helps me
appreciate them more...

My new drying rack is metal with plastic feet, and I now have my very
own bathtub for leaving it in. I've been doing laundry every other day
- just enough time for each batch to dry - and I'm making steady
progress through the laundry that had accumulated while I was living
out of suitcases.

It gives me pleasure to take the pieces off the drying rack and
fold them neatly, placing them in my drawers. I have a table-top
ironing board, but I want a stand-up ironing board. If it's the right
height, it may even double as a bedside desk. I'm looking forward to
ironing my clothes and hanging them up. I've already assembled and
hung up my outfits for the next few days. Again, the joy of
anticipation!